Without A Paddle

 I slowly become aware of a larger miracle:  22 focused eighth graders, completely quiet and perfectly still. 

"Just to get to know you a little, I'd like for each of you to tell me your name," says Georgia Yamaki.  "Then give me an adjective that describes you and starts with the first letter of your name." 

She looks expectantly at the group of eighth graders from Chickahominy Middle School in Hanover County, who are suddenly and uncharacteristically shy.  Herring Creek, the destination of today's Chesapeake Bay Foundation canoe trip, flows silently behind them on its way to the James River.

"I'm sure if you don't think of an adjective, your classmates, since they know you so well. . ."

That gets the ball rolling.

 "I'm Chris and I guess I'm crazy."

"I'm Courtney and I'm kind."

Bodacious Bill.  Radical Randy.  Travis the Troublemaker.  Muscular Mike.

"I'm Shannon and I'm short."

"Short Shannon!" laughs Georgia.

"People are always patting me on the head at school."

The ice completely broken, Yamaki tells the kids what to expect:  "We're going to ask you tons of questions.  You can ask tons of questions back."

The Chesapeake Bay Foundation takes some 33,000 people a year on "get acquainted" trips with the Bay and its tributaries.   The excursions aren't all in canoes.  They also go out in skipjacks--the historic sailing oyster boats--and other craft.  You don't have to be part of a school group.   There's even a place for the just plain curious.  Call their Richmond office--804-780-1392--for details. 

Yamaki and partner Judy Ballinger take groups out in canoes from mid-March to December.  Their Bay Foundation business cards identify them as "Educators."

Ballinger produces a satellite photo of the Bay.  The students gather round, businesslike, interested. 

"Now.  Water from six states drains into the Bay.  They are. . ."

Silence.

"It was on the test," says Russ Mollenauer, their physical science teacher.  "Virginia, Maaryland, Delaware. . ."  The chorus hesitates.  "West Virginia. . ."  More voices drop out.  It's mostly the girls who finish.  "Pennsylvania, New York."

Good!"  The discussion continues with the concept of watersheds, then moves into the function of wetlands and the effects of pollution.  Canoeing skills and water safety finish things up.  "And here's our first wildlife."

A tick.

Yamaki recommends sun block and offers to share.  "It's a fry baby day."  Both her and Ballinger have incredible, glow-from-within, outside-all-day tans.  Yamaki has her waist-length hair in a braid that emerges from the back of her "SAVE the Bay" cap.

"Where are the boys going?"

"A little break," says Mollenauer.  "In the cave we had to go behind a rock."

"You've been caving?"  I ask, surprised. 

"I took some of these guys caving this year," says Mollenauer.  Enquiry reveals he's also had them out rock climbing, skiing, hiking Old Rag and boating on the Bay.

Where was this guy when I was in school?

Finally underway, kid-filled canoes move out into the creek.  Mollenaneuer has placed me paddleless between Travis the Troublemaker and Courtney, who said she was kind.  For the first hundred yards their repartee plays off the Educator's instructions to put the brawn in the back and the brains in the front of the canoe.  Courtney's in the front.          

Mollenauer has a kayak.  Amazingly mobile, the outrider to the herd, he zips off to investigate anything that looks interesting on the banks.

"Mollenauer!" yells Travis.  "I want kayak lessons."

"You were Mr. Mollenauer at the beginning of the day," I say when he pulls abreast.

"In a few hours I'll be 'Mull' or 'M' or 'you.'"  He spies a sunning water snake, paddles over and catches it with his hands.  After showing it to the students, he lets it go. 

Yamaki calls everyone over to a huge patch of lily-pad looking plants.  "This is called "golden cloud" or "never wet."  To help us understand the origin of the name, she has us pull off a leaf and scoop a little water with it.  When I try the experiment, my water drop slides like a bead of mercury in the "V" of the leaf.  It sparkles, jewel-like, as it rolls.  "Why do they have this waxy coating?"

"So they don't get waterlogged?"

"Exactly.  Now everyone tear your leaf--what's in it?"

"Some icky, sticky stuff."

"Sap and what. . .there's a great blue heron flying off to your right.  Does anyone remember how much it weighs?"

They'd told us earlier that the huge-seeming bird only weighs 4-5 pounds.  Later we spot a bald eagle.  Mollenauer and the Educators are surprisingly blasé--"They're quite common."--but it's the first bald eagle I've ever seen.

On the way back, Mollenauer signals us over to the bank whispering that he's seen a pair of mink.  I'd never thought of "mink" except in association with "coat."  I had no idea they lived in Virginia.

The minks rustle in the underbrush.  Gradually all the canoes come over.  The minks don't show themselves, but as the minutes tick by I slowly become aware of a larger miracle:  22 focused eighth graders, completely quiet and perfectly still. 

“Without a Paddle” first appeared in the June 30, 1992 issue of Style Weekly.